


Judas

by OverlordYue



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-02 03:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20269390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlordYue/pseuds/OverlordYue
Summary: The Deputy is free and Pratt is waking up in the dark, bound to a chair, crying and laughing, because ain’t life just a fucking mess.





	Judas

When Pratt woke up, the song was still playing, low, in the back of his spinning mind. His head hurt, his throat hurt, his stomach hurt—really, it would be easier for him to take stock of what didn’t hurt.

Pain, pain, everywhere, but not a fuck to give, because Rook was out, she was free, and fuck Jacob Seed and every miserable Peggie that ever breathed.

“Fuck ‘em all,” Pratt wheezed out, trying to shift in the hard chair under him, but found that his arms and feet wouldn’t move and that even the slightest shifting of his head made it pound even harder. His eyes felt crusty and strained as he tried to crack them open, thankfully waking up in a room that was dark enough that it didn’t send his mind straight to hell. Well, further down into hell.

He blinked until he could see straight, again trying to move and meeting resistance in his arms and feet. He looked down to see several layers of duct tape wrapped around his wrists, binding him to the chair. He gave an experimental yank, but the tape just painfully pulled at the hair on his arms and grew tighter against his skin.

Pratt had expected as much. Jacob wasn’t that fucking careless.

“Almost like he doesn’t trust me anymore,” Pratt murmured to himself, a giddy feeling surging through his chest, and he laughed. The sound echoed around his little metal prison, mixing with a chorus of onllllllly yoooooou in the recesses of his mind, and Pratt couldn’t stop the laughter from pouring out, even as his chest and throat ached, even as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and spilled over down his cheeks.

He had won. He was going to die, but he had fucking won. Rook was out and if she stayed out, she’d be safe, Eli would be safe.

Stupid, stupid Jacob.

“Something funny?”

Oh, stupid, stupid Pratt.

The laughter finally died in Pratt’s throat and his eyes refocused. Jacob was standing in the doorway—Pratt could barely see him through the tears in his eyes and the shadows of the room, but there was no one else it could be. Only you, only Jacob.

“Just thinking of a joke.”

Jacob stepped forward, moving closer until he stood in front of Pratt, looming over him. Now in the light, Pratt could see him—could see that Jacob had his Herald mask of indifference in place, but it was crooked, incomplete. No amount of self-control could have kept Jacob’s eyes free of emotion, and Pratt knew him now, knew him so well.

“Care to share?” Jacob’s lips curled up into a biting parody of a smile, and Pratt felt a thrill go through him. Not fear, for once not fear, and Pratt felt hysterical at the way his lips twitched up to match Jacob’s smile.

“I don’t think you’d get it.”

“Try me.”

“No.”

_Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you._

Jacob’s eyes darkened and narrowed, and an urge welled up inside Pratt—the urge to obey, to beg, to please the man who he was at the mercy of, but this awakened, manic part of him squashed the feeling down.

_There will be no mercy for me_, Pratt looked into Jacob’s icy blue eyes, _I am death, I was always going to die here._

Nothing would change that—not any amount of begging or groveling would change Jacob’s mind. Hell, it would probably speed up the process. It didn’t matter that less than twenty-four hours ago Pratt had been sleeping in Jacob’s bed, had been woken by Jacob’s kisses and his hard cock grinding against his ass, had sucked him off later underneath his deck, had been a good boy for months and months. He’d promised Jacob that he was his, he’d been gentle the few times Jacob had been Weak and tender, and he had whispered his loyalty over and over again until he had made Jacob breathless with it.

None of that mattered now. All it did was serve to make Pratt’s betrayal all the more painful, all the more damning.

“My, aren’t we feeling brave, Peaches,” Jacob leaned forward, one of his hands coming to rest on Pratt’s shoulder, his nails digging into his Deputy’s uniform and the bruises underneath, making Pratt wince.

“Imminent death seems to have done more for me than months of your _training_. In truth, that’s a large part of the joke.”

“That is funny,” Jacob wasn’t laughing, “But how about I tell you a joke of my own?”

Jacob wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor.

“This little stunt, your like moment of heroism, it will all have been for nothing,” Jacob leaned in close, his fingers gripping Pratt so hard he was afraid his shoulder would break. He could smell Jacob, gunpowder, blood, and dog, and he could see every scar and burn that lined his face, like something out of a horror movie, come to devour him.

“One, two, three, Pratt, then I get ‘em. You’ve only delayed the inevitable—your friend will be back here by the end of the week, and by then, you’ll know better. No food, no water, you’ll piss here, you’ll die here, a traitor.”

Pratt felt his body begin to seize up, fear creeping into his muscles, his throat, and he wanted scream at his body.

_You knew the consequences, _he wanted to scream, desperate to keep calm even as his body began to tremble under Jacob’s hand, _you knew what would happen, you knew, stop fucking shaking._

“Not feeling so brave now, are ya, Pratt?”

“Just wasn’t a very funny joke,” Pratt forced out from behind gritted teeth.

Jacob slapped him, knocking his head back sharply, and the chair teetered dangerously for a moment before crashing back forward. Pratt’s head felt like it was about to split open, and small black dots peppered his vision, his body threatening to pull him back down into unconsciousness. He could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had cut against his cheek, and his face felt fiery hot where Jacob’s hand had connected.

Pratt had barely recovered, shaking his head to clear his vision, before Jacob slapped him again, hitting the opposite cheek. The chair went down this time, crashing down onto the metal below and igniting Pratt’s whole left side with renewed pain. His whole face burned and he couldn’t help the whimper that escaped past his lips as Jacob moved, his boot clanging down inches from Pratt’s face.

“The world is Weak,” Jacob knelt down, his hand sliding into Pratt’s hair and pulling it taut, straining his neck back so he was forced to look up into Jacob’s unsmiling eyes, “The old world will die, you along with it. Was it worth it, Pratt?”

“Yes,” Pratt whispered, voice croaky, shaking, “Yes, _yes_, **_yes_**.”

Jacob let him go with a scoff of disgust, and Pratt’s head dropped back down against the metal grate below. Darkness was seeping into the corners of his vision, and he welcomed it, the slip into unconsciousness, where he wouldn’t have to feel the aches of his broken body or hear the sound of Jacob’s voice.

He could only hear the song, slow and lovely, spreading like venom through his mind. He felt, dully, Jacob’s hand on his face, brushing his hair back, but he couldn’t hear his words.

_You're my dream come true, my one and only yooooooou._

“Yes,” Pratt mumbled, eyes sliding closed, not sure if his mouth was even actually moving, “Yes.”

_Yes, it was worth it._


End file.
